


Making Sense

by GooglyEyesMcGee



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Draco will eventually figure it out, F/M, Fourth Year, Good Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Purposefully ignoring his feelings because he's Draco, Slow Burn, Third Year, Yule Ball, could be developed later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-02 20:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17270180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooglyEyesMcGee/pseuds/GooglyEyesMcGee
Summary: A story about Draco slowly opening his eyes to the fact that parroting his parents' bigotry is keeping him from a pretty friggen awesome insufferable know-it-all





	1. Chapter 1

 

**"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"**

**Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first- SMACK!**

**She had slapped Malfoy around the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.**

**"Don't you _dare_ call Hagrid pathetic, you foul- you evil-"**

**"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back.**

**"Get _off_ , Ron!"**

**Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backwards. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.**

**"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, and next moment all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons.**

* * *

 

 

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!"

The words echoed off the stone hall, barely heard over the heavy footsteps of the boys flanking Draco while he descended to the dungeons. 

Walking to the Slytherin common room seemed to take much longer than it usually did most likely because Draco's mind was turning over his options rather than trying to participate in whatever Mudblood-bashing jokes that Crabbe and Goyle were tossing back and forth. 

Besides the fact that the mudblood's slap made his blood boil there hadn't really been and damage done. She was barely eye-level with his chin and soaking wet wouldn't outweigh a particularly fat snidget, yet she had managed to catch him off guard. Though he had rocked back slightly, the slap hadn't done anything but bruise his pride.

Though, pride to a Malfoy was everything. 

His options were limited just by the fact that Granger was the one that had struck him. Again, her size guaranteed that if he reported the assault that more punishment would befall him than the muggleborn. He'd lose respect among his classmates, let alone the rest of his house. Plus, it wasn't as if Professor McGonagall would punish the little know-it-all anyway, it was his word against _Potter's_.

In lieu of scheming a way to get back at Granger, Malfoy had to resolve to humiliate Gryffindor in the upcoming Quidditch match. 

As the trio rounded the final corner, Draco summoned his most disinterested voice to quiet his compatriots.

"The two of you seem to be much more concerned with the feelings of a mudblood than I'd have guessed. You're like Nott, are you? Think she's fit for a muggle?"

That ended the conversation between his goonish friends quickly enough for Draco to be able to spit the password out and stroll into the common room without pause. 

Crabbe and Goyle slowed to talk to a few of their classmates, each confused about a separate subject that Draco couldn't be bothered to elaborate upon. Instead of listening to the general din of the common room, Draco disappeared to his room set on finishing his already-late potions essay. Snape had given him an extension so that he might spend more time participating in Quidditch practices. Since he'd been the Slytherin seeker most of his potions deadlines had turned into general suggestions for Draco, at least.

By the time his roommates had found their way to the shared dormitory, Draco's essay on 'How to Properly Catch, Preserve, and Store Flying Seahorses' lay across the foot of his bed only half done.

Draco was doing his best to become involved in the (rather boring) novel his father had sent him. The thick, leather bound book was probably one of the hundreds of ancient books that his family had passed down for generations, though it was in pristine condition. The language was almost entirely foreign to him, as it had been written back in the early 16th century, though he was expected to finish it by the fortnight's end. However, he couldn't focus on the book any better than he could focus on the 3 feet of parchment he was meant to be writing on. 

The blush in his cheek had long since faded, but Granger's strike was still taking precedence in Draco's mind. With a snap of frustration, the book was slammed shut and disposed of. Once it was safely inside his bedside table, Draco gathered his essay, quill, and ink bottle. With their conversations as an excuse, Draco escaped his friends and found himself a comfortable seat in front of the common room fireplace. Sitting over a small ornate table, Draco stared at his frankly mediocre essay and grit his teeth. He'd seen Granger's essay when she turned it in- half a foot longer than it'd needed to be- and he knew that she'd had no problem describing the mind numbing process. She never had any problem academically, it's why he took so much pleasure in watching her flounder for praise from those few teachers that didn't seem to think she was the smartest witch in the whole damn school. 

He'd always been taught that Mudbloods didn't mean anything. They were lesser creatures to be trodden over when the Pureblood families rose to their former glory. Though the world was attempting to be more 'inclusive' and 'tolerant' of their practicing magic, people would eventually come to their senses. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had taken painstaking care to pass these philosophies on to their only heir. Hermione Granger was an affront to everything he had ever been taught about people of her blood status.

She was not inherently stupid. That was as obvious as the color of the sky and couldn't be denied. She was quicker to answer every question and could probably teach better than some long-time Hogwarts professors... Whether this was due to her drive to prove herself or her innate talent it had always irritated Draco's ego. She was not weak, magically or otherwise. Not only was she book smart, but Hermione was known to be skilled in charms. He'd heard a few stories passed through the grapevine that was Hogwarts's social circles, not that that was particularly impressive. It just went to contradict what he'd been taught, again. Finally, she wasn't some hideous other-creature, she was as human as he was. Despite her incredibly frizzy hair and protruding front teeth, she rested generally on the prettier side of average.

Draco recoiled from the thought with a start, looking around the common room and thankfully finding it to be empty.

For a moment, Draco found himself debating whether or not he actually found bucktoothed Granger to be 'pretty'. After all, Theodore Nott had said that he found her to be relatively fit. He was as close to a pig in human form that you could probably find, though. It made sense that he'd give a Mudblood the time of day. Draco, on the other hand, couldn't be bothered to think of Hermione much outside of this anomaly of a day. 

She'd simply shocked him with her decision to strike him across the face. 

Draco rolled his parchment and set it aside, staring into the quietly crackling fireplace. He had somehow moved back to convincing himself that she was nothing. That she was just a muggleborn that would fizzle out at some point, too tired to keep up with the other real wizards. Potter at least had real wizarding heritage, even if he was completely insufferable. Granger, on the other hand was going to get so tired of pretending to be so incredibly good at what she did that she was going to drop out in the middle of her OWLs. 

Satisfied by his regression into the comforting ways of pureblood supremacy, Draco waited another 15 minutes before retreating into his now darkened room and crawling into bed only to be woken a few hours later by Marcus Flint. 

Hermione wasn't even a thought in his head.


	2. A familiar thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We shut our eyes to the plainest facts

Draco thought he looked rather smart in his black dress robes.

He had come to this conclusion while turning his body from side-to-side in front of the mirror to admire the way that they hung over him. They were a very smooth black velvet that didn't seem to be as bag-like as the regular school robes. The high collar was a bit stiff, but he supposed that didn't matter. He'd still be better dressed than half the school, definitely better dressed than Crabbe and Goyle combined. Times ten. The two of them had been dressed since classes ended, neither in a flattering outfit. Draco supposed it would just make him look better by comparison to have these two on either side of him.

Once he had finally been satisfied with the state of his hair, Draco collected his friends and strolled down the stairs to the common room silently. Well, Draco was silent. The other two were bumbling about and trying their best to hit on the few girls that were braving the common room alone, their dates already waiting for them outside the Great Hall.

Pansy flounced her way up the stairs seven minutes later than he'd asked her to, the dress she wore brushed against both walls of the narrow staircase to the girls' rooms. Surprisingly, she'd managed to make herself look relatively attractive. The two of them had simply assumed they were going together as they had been dating for the better part of the year, though this could be considered their first date. Neither was particularly interested in the other, but both were the best option for the other available in the small gene pool that was Hogwarts. Of the girls around his age that weren't mudbloods or blood traitors, that weren't friends of Potter or his friends, that he wasn't related to, that his father approved of, that his _mother_ approved of, that weren't already dating someone, and that he even mildly fancied... well, Parkinson was really all he had to work with. Millicent Bulstrode was another option and judging by the earwax colored dress she wore while she clung to the arm of the Miles Bletchly, he had most definitely made the right choice. 

Pansy's dress was a frilled up pink baby doll-esque dress that had somehow brought some color out of the normally black irises. Her black hair was curled and shiny and her makeup was perhaps a bit heavy handed, but nonetheless made her look much more girlish than Draco had thought possible. Though, he probably should have seen it coming considering her obsession with unicorns. He wondered idly if she dressed more in this fashion outside of school. The only times he'd seen her beyond the halls of Hogwarts was when she was flanked by her parents at a Malfoy family event. The Parkinson family tended to dress in matching outfits. 

He offered her his arm, complimenting her dress with a small smile. Talkative as usual, she took up much of the conversation while they strode out of the common room. It didn't seem that Crabbe and Goyle had noticed until about thirty seconds later when they heard the secret door re-open and a quick shuffle of footsteps following them. 

"-thought that it doesn't really seem fair. Those bulky Durmstrang boys are always edging in on our space and still they couldn't find it in themselves to take even one of the Slytherin girls to the ball. I've heard half of them are going with Hufflepuffs, even. How embarrassing," Pansy prattled on while they climbed the stairs toward the babble they heard echoing off the walls. Every once in a while her footing would wobble, her heels too tall for her balance. He assumed that they wouldn't be dancing for very long, which suited him just fine. He'd had enough dancing every Christmas before this one, he didn't see it as an incredibly exciting opportunity. 

Though he generally held apathy for big ritzy parties like the Yule Ball, he had higher hopes. His parents' friends were stuffy and all said the same things. They would ask about his schooling, about his love life, about how grown up he looked since the last party. And then once everyone had gotten sufficiently sloshed they would all start to reminisce about the 'good old days' and how everyone they had lost to Azkaban had been wrongly imprisoned, blah blah blah. More often than not, Draco was told that he reminded people of one dead or imprisoned relative or another.

Parties at home were boring. Hogwarts wasn't filled with reminiscent witches and wizards that were past their primes, though. And the music would definitely be better- he'd been a fan of the Weird Sisters for a while. Funnily enough, when you were only allowed to listen to a small group of the "right" musicians (and all those musicians were super old and tired), most of the music you listen to is pretty crap. At the very least, he was gonna be able to make it through the night with a few mugs of butterbeer. 

"Christ," Draco mumbled, cutting one of Pansy's sentences off once they reached the entrance hall. He'd never seen it so packed. With a stream of Slytherins behind them, the group of four pushed forward through the crowd- literally pushing some of the people out of the way. Despite her bouncing girlish appearance, Pansy had a mean elbow. They'd made it to the sparser area near the large wooden doors of the Great Hall before stopping again. They'd be one of the first inside, stealing the best table for themselves. 

In the noise of the people around him, Draco hadn't even noticed that Pansy was speaking again. One of the Beauxbaton girls was wearing a dress that was near the same color as hers. He replied with some variance of 'your dress looks better' and instead turned to Crabbe and Goyle behind them. 

"Doesn't seem like Granger is gonna show her beaver-toothed face after all," he grinned, holding a hand out. A few weeks ago he had overheard Granger muttering to herself in the library about how stupid the gaggle of giggling girls around Viktor Krum was, groaning to her books that the Yule Ball was unnecessary.

When he had mused about this to Crabbe and Goyle later that night, they'd all placed bets on why she was so sore on the subject. Draco assumed that she hadn't been able to convince anyone to come with her to the Yule ball, Crabbe thought she could at least trick Weasley into going with her. She was probably the only girl desperate enough to overlook the rags he'd probably be wearing. Goyle thought she'd beg Potter to go with her, but that was out of the question to Draco considering the idiot was a champion. 

Turns out Draco was owed 2 galleons a piece; once Potter and Weasley descended the staircase into the crowd, they'd each been accompanied by one of the Patil sisters with Granger no where in sight. It gave him a fairly mean sense of satisfaction to know that she didn't have a date to the ball, that she was going to spend yet another night buried in her schoolwork. 

That realization put a little bit of a pep in his step once the large ornate doors in front of them were opened. He moved with the herd of people toward the doors, his arm clung to by his candy colored date. 

For the first time that night, Pansy Parkinson had stopped talking. Curiously he turned head, eyes snagging on exactly what had caused the silence. 

Hermione Granger was standing to the side in a sweetly colored blue dress clutching the arm of Viktor Krum. Her hair, which was usually unruly only sometimes managed by a struggling hair tie, was smooth and shiny. Even the mocking smile she offered Pansy was unusually pretty. He balked at the sight, staring for what was probably too long before she disappeared behind the group of people rushing into the hall.

Dragged behind a slightly irritated Pansy, Draco almost completely missed the grandness of the Yule Ball decorations. They claimed a table at the edge of the dance floor, Draco helping Pansy by pulling out her seat for her and sitting down to her left. 

"I think the icicles are gorgeous," Pansy sighed in a cloying voice, her eyes cast around the room. 

"They're nice enough," Draco said, staring back at the door while everyone entered the Great Hall. He couldn't catch another glance at Granger's face, unsure as to whether or not it was actually her. He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, trying to tune back into his friends' conversation. 

"Think they're gonna play the Hippogriff song tonight? The Weird Sisters?" Goyle asked, picking at the dirt underneath his nails. "I don't really wanna listen to just the slow stuff." 

"Oh, but then we could dance, Draco!" Pansy interjected, causing Crabbe and Goyle both to snort. 

Draco waved her off, aware that his friends would've chopped off a toe to convince a girl like Pansy to come to the ball with them.

"Trust me," he nodded. "We'll dance. I just-" He was cut off by the voice of Ludo Bagman announcing that the ball was about to begin. 

He dragged himself to his feet reluctantly, Pansy stuck to his side while they took their spot at the edge of the dance floor. Everyone was going to be forced to watch Fleur Delacour and three idiots prance around the dance floor for a song just because a cup spit their names out. It didn't really make them all that special. The only one that earned any of his notoriety was Krum, and it didn't really seem like he had much of a brain if he was taking Hermione Granger to an event like this.

His mouth hardened into a line while the champions strutted into the spotlight, eyes glued to Krum and Granger. How had she convinced a world-renowned quidditch player, someone who had played in the  _Quidditch World Cup_ , to go to the Yule Ball with her? The way he was looking at her made Draco's stomach turn with displeasure. She'd managed to ruin one of the best seekers of all time, one that had attended Durmstrang! He began to feel, watching Krums lumbering steps across the dance floor, that his mother had been correct in not sending him to Durmstrang. Sure, he had the innate talent for flying, but he had no taste. Especially not in women. 

The mudblood must've tricked him somehow. A love potion seemed particularly likely from the glassy look in Krum's eyes and the general know-it-all trait that Granger possessed. Probably slipped it to him one of the times they were alone in the library together. 

_'A love potion didn't explain why she looks the way she does,'_ an intrusive thought badgered, making Draco's stomach flip a little. In the lights of the dance floor, in that periwinkle blue dress, her eyes looked to be the color of caramel. The nervous smile she was wearing, one that was much different than the look she had shot at Pansy, made his pale face flush slightly with color. She was spun (clumsily, of course) by Krum once again and Draco caught the look on the Bulgarian's face. He looked like he wanted to kiss her. 

Draco recoiled at the thought, leaving Pansy by the dance floor and sitting back in his seat, waiting for the music to end. He was furious with himself for even acknowledging that Granger was anything other than a mudblood with a makeover. Come the next morning, she'd have the same bushy hair. She would have the same teeth, same unkempt robes, and there wouldn't be a speck of make up on her face. She couldn't keep it up. Plus, when Krum comes to his senses she won't even have that gargoyle's attention to make her feel better. Draco sincerely doubted she'd be able to keep up the facade for more than a night. 

He wasn't joined at the table until the next song had come on. Crabbe and Goyle tromped back to their seats and slouched over the table, ordering their food as quickly as their mouths could manage. Pansy, however, stood indignantly over his shoulder like a gussied up parrot. Before she could ask to dance again in that horrible attempt at a sweet tone, Draco stood and held out his hand to her. At the very least they had to dance once. There was no way he would avoid hearing about his 'rudeness' from his mother if he didn't even dance for one song. 

The dance floor was more crowded now, but they found their space toward the center. The music wasn't particularly slow, but Draco wrapped an arm around Pansy's waist nonetheless. He was quietly thankful that he'd been taught to dance from a young age. He knew that if there were any eyes on the pair of them that they would have no reason to compare him to the lumbering oaf that was Viktor Krum or, even worse, Potter. He'd been to distracted to properly criticize him while he danced, but nonetheless he was sure that the moron didn't have a graceful bone in his body. 

Satisfaction holding his head high Draco began to move with Pansy in tow. Taking into account her lack of balance or apparent skill, they moved well together. It was enough, at least, to make him feel more relaxed. He started to have some fun. Blaise had passed by once or twice, managing to toss a joke to Draco about an ugly outfit or an odd couple before disappearing with his date into the swirling crowd. 

By the time the music had really kicked up, Draco had a smile on his face.

He didn't look at Granger more than once or twice after that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I guess it's more than a oneshot now :)


End file.
